


Blink

by Giroshane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Dissociation, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, literally no one is neurotypical pfft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giroshane/pseuds/Giroshane
Summary: Lena Oxton, more than anyone else, understood the trappings of time. So it stands to reason she'll do something very stupid to save someone she loves.





	1. Lena

Lena Oxton, more than anyone else, understood the trappings of time. How it flowed, or more often, how it _didn’t_ , jerking and winding and bumping and almost never quite working in the way you wanted it to. That’s not to say she understood it mathematically or even academically, because it was Winston who understood it that way. She knew it personally, intimately, like an old friend, or, more aptly, an old friend who got saddled onto her after a traumatic plane accident. World’s worst therapy dog. As a result, Lena learned to consider all options--or as many as she could--their outcomes, their consequences, their safety, their _worth_ , in order to maintain a stable relationship with time. After years in this close relationship, she could do this fairly quickly, and had refined it into a tool to use on the battlefield; an integral tool, a tool that’s saved other lives and her own life numerous times. Not a completely failsafe tool--and Lena also knew this intimately, could recount in detail every time she failed, because time, at the worst of times, is fickle--but a tool.

So when Lena, on her way to provide backup to Agent Symmetra, friend Satya, saw the laser sightline, heard Satya’s warning cry of “Sniper! Upper wind--” and its subsequent cut off by the sound of a bullet, _watched_ the woman’s body crumple to the ground in a single brutal headshot, she had determined within seconds her possible choices and had come to the realization that there was no way to safely save the archi-tech. Because Lena Oxton, more than anyone else, understood the trappings of time.

So it stands to reason Lena _immediately_ ripped open the emergency control panel in the chronal accelerator and meddled with something that was by no means ever meant to be meddled with.

 _“The wiring here is delicate, and it’s what’s keeping the chronal anchoring constrained to you and_ only _you. If it were ever damaged, it would likely result in an outburst of temporal dislocation. Anything within a certain range will experience the same disassociation you experience, and depending on the damage, you may still retain control--but over_ everything _in that range. Naturally the universe doesn’t work like that, and not only would it try to right itself and force you out, your body would also be rejecting it, no doubt violently.”_

Perhaps under different circumstances Tracer would reconsider such a dangerous move. But this was Satya, the archi-tech who switched sides; who had had her whole belief system shattered by being brought to Overwatch but had come back stronger for it; who tried so hard to be amicable in her own strange way that Lena understood; who in turn understood Lena’s odd habits, her idiosyncrasies and special interests; speaking of, who would let Lena infodump about planes for _hours_ and the only thing asked in return was that Satya could then expound about hard light constructions in turn; who had filled the room with hard light _stars_ when Lena told her she missed seeing the night sky because of all the pollution. So by all means, Tracer would _not_ reconsider in _these_ circumstances.

“Not today, Amélie.” She only heard herself say, because at the worst of times everything dislocated, dissociated, the only thing that existed was the facsimile of Tracer while Lena panicked. She reached into the panel, into the exposed wiring, and finding the one wire that buzzed more than any other (the one she could _feel_ on quiet nights, like it wasn’t just in the device keeping her in the present but also in her _veins_ ), she _yanked_ it out.

Winston would be proud (read: he would actually probably have a heart attack. Sorry Winston).

Immediately the chronal accelerator heated up, humming and vibrating. It _burned_ her, through her clothes, into her skin, and for a split second she thought it would simply cook her and nothing more. Then there was a pause, quite literally, she seemed to freeze in time. But so did _everything around her_. It was as if even the _air_ had stilled.

Lena inhaled, and it all inhaled with her.

She was controlling _all of it_.

And it was making her body _scream_. This was too much for her, she could feel it. The accelerator was overheating and burning her skin, and every atom seemed to be individually on fire. But she had control, over every item, every _atom_. She had control over Amélie. She had control over Satya.

She could fix this.

“Let’s try that again, ladies.”

It was scary how Satya’s timestream, so vivid (yet indescribable) in her mind’s eye, cut so visibly _short_. It stopped, or vanished--Lena could see the exact point where it ended.

 _Don’t panic yet, girl_. She thought to herself, knowing full well she was already panicking. _There’s still time. Ha! Time._

 _Fuck time_.

The rewind felt like pulling back a tight rubber band, the tension was so strong Lena thought she might break from the pressure as she moved, and everything moved with her. But she held. Everything burned and she screamed through her teeth, but she held.

And suddenly she was back again, Satya was _alive_ again, the woman only just starting to notice the rifle trained on her. There was a staircase into the open building Widowmaker was hiding in. Tracer couldn’t let the sniper kill another target, not while she could help it. No time to lose.

 _Fuck time_.

Tracer blinked forward. Up the stairs.

Blinked again. Down the hallway.

One more blink. “Sniper! Upper wind--”

She _watched_ Widowmaker pull the trigger over the woman’s shoulder, and _again_ she watched Satya crumple to the ground, utterly lifeless. Her time stream came to a stop in Lena’s vision.

“ _No!_ ” Lena shrieked, and before Widowmaker could even process that Tracer was behind her the agent was rewinding.

Except Widowmaker didn’t rewind with her. The range of control was diminishing, the universe was righting itself, Lena’s heart beat in syncopated chaos. She was dimly aware of the fact that she could no longer hear, which probably wasn’t good. It _was_ , however, unimportant. Tracer had rewound, Symmetra had rewound, but Widowmaker hadn’t. Which meant Satya was only just about to notice the sniper, but Amélie would already be taking another shot. Tracer didn’t have enough time to try and stop the Widow again. There was another room to her right, and a window she could see Satya out of.

Tracer blinked forward. The glass shattered but everything already sang with pain; she hardly noticed it. The range was shrinking around her--Satya had fallen out of it now as well, Lena had little time and little control left. Or energy. The temporal outburst was damaging enough, but jumping across her own timestream without the proper allowance for cooldown was just the sugar in the tea.

 _Fuck time_.

She blinked again, on solid ground now but still some distance away. An agonized scream burst past her lips.

Another blink, and she was at Satya’s side. But the archi-tech was staring at the window, eyes wide, mid-warning, and Tracer had a split-second to react before it was too late _again_. The temporal outburst range was so small now, almost down to a second skin.

Tracer wrapped her arms around Symmetra.  _Blink_.

She wasn’t really aiming any other way than forward when they jumped; they seemed to have entered another building but all Tracer was sure of was that they _slammed_ into a wall violently, enough that she could hear Satya cry out in pain (but it wasn’t a death rattle, _Thank God_ it wasn’t a death rattle).

Devoid of energy (devoid of a lot of things, it seemed Lena was, but energy most chiefly), Lena’s knees gave out and she sank to the ground. Satya sank with her, sliding down the wall and groaning weakly. Lena shoved as much of the pain as she could aside and seized the woman's shoulders, because alive didn't mean okay and Lena _had_ to make sure Satya was okay. The lens in her goggles had cracked from the collision with the wall though, fractures spreading across the whole thing. She had to rip them off to see clearly, and had to blink a few times to the painful new starkness of the world before she could wholly process what she seeing.

Satya looked, in a word, shaken. Her eyes were wide, she was trembling, and her breath came in ragged gasps. The graze of a bullet had left a small cut in her forehead. She had to repeat herself five times to cut through Lena’s panicked jabbering.

“ _Let go of me._ ”

Anyone else might have been hurt or offended by the harshness in her voice, but Lena understood how even the smallest touch could be like fire when everything was overwhelming. She let go, and watched somewhat detachedly as Satya’s hand flew to some part of her prosthetic and began clicking a dud switch to help calm down. Without any stimulation to pull her own focus, Lena thought she might drown in the pain; the chronal accelerator was still sparking, still burning her skin. She should take it off, but even if the thing was eventually going to burn out on its own, she didn’t want to risk desynchronizing mid-mission. She didn’t want to desynchronize _period_. She...she couldn't go through that _hell_ again.

Satya’s attention was drawn to her when she began patting her legs; she seemed calmer now, more attentive, especially to Tracer. Her eyes widened and she leaned forward, and she seemed about to speak--

Or not. The woman twisted to the side and upended the contents of her stomach. Lena could sympathize--even she got time-motion sickness the first time she blinked, and having one’s timestream manipulated for the first time period wasn’t the most fun thing either. She could only hope that the Widowmaker was experiencing the same sickness, or else they’d soon be royally fucked.

“Bleeding.” The archi-tech rasped, having recovered (barely). Lena couldn’t really find the words or motions to respond. Satya repeated herself. “You’re bleeding.”

She was? Shakily she reached up and felt along her face. Ah. She was. From her nose, and after further inspection, her ears (which would explain why Satya sounded so faint). She wouldn’t be surprised if the blood vessels in her eyes had burst too, considering how much they hurt. Her hands returned to pat her legs, at a faster pace than before. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t think she could stand.

Satya edged forward, but before she could say anything she froze, eyes wide and staring at something over Lena’s shoulder. Lena whipped around.

Widowmaker.

Tracer immediately tried to turn and get to her feet, but just that was too much. The chronal accelerator sputtered with electricity, and she fell to the ground with an agonized cry. It seemed like the thing was finally burning out, but it was still fighting to work properly. Lena writhed, trying to move through the pain, trying to focus on the sniper closing in, but it was just too much.

Widowmaker, at the very least, seemed worse for wear. She walked forward with a limp, and she was breathing heavily, but other than that she had her rifle up and aimed. At Satya.

Tracer couldn’t manage anything more coherent than pained cries as she reached for her pistol. But her hand was shaky, and her grip was weak; she could hardly aim the thing, let alone fire it. Her hand dropped. Amélie seemed amused by the display.

“Pathetic.” The woman chuckled. “I don’t know what you were trying to do, little lapin, but rest assured now _both_ of you will die.”

There was a low sound, almost like a growl, and suddenly Symmetra was crouching over her. The woman’s teeth were bared and one hand supported her weight over Tracer while the other gestured subtly. The blue photons blinked in and out of sight around them. A shield, but it wouldn’t be enough to protect them wholly. And Widowmaker knew it.

“Are you seeking only to prolong your pain?” She asked condescendingly, moving closer.

“Kill us now if you’re only going prolong the inevitable.” Symmetra quipped back. Widowmaker only laughed. Tracer only whimpered in agony.

“Hm, so blasé.” Amélie said. “One would think you are like me.”

“I'd prefer you'd kill me, to spare me of that terrible comparison.”

“So eager for death? Don't worry,” the assassin cooed, cocking the rifle. “It is coming. I just want to revel in the victory.”

“A spider that plays with its food is an inefficient one. Your masters would be displeased.”

At that point, Lena wasn't exactly sure what Symmetra was trying to do here--get them killed faster?

“Au contraire, they will be pleased to learn I disposed of the _annoyance_.” Widowmaker gestured to Tracer with the rifle, stalking closer, a spider closing in on its prey. “And you,” the rifle moved back to Satya, “Vishkar’s fallen angel. On second thought, once I kill her I might keep you. If Talon couldn't find a use for you they'd fetch a high price from Vishkar to get their traitor back.”

“No--” Lena wheezed, trying to sit up but failing miserably. She felt like she was being torn apart, and she couldn't do anything but watch as Satya would be murdered (again, _again_ , dammit, but this time Tracer wouldn't be able to save her).

“I would die before I let you take me--and, I would die before I let you hurt her.” Satya snarled.

Widowmaker glanced between the two women, raising an eyebrow.

“Really?” She said dryly. She sighed, stepping forward. “So be it. Adi--”

The woman cut off with a yell as photon beams blasted into her. Lena had to squint at the bright onslaught of light, but she managed to pinpoint its source--sources. Two turrets, carefully placed to be just out of sight on either side of the doorway. A trap. Symmetra had been goading Widowmaker forward until she was in the line of fire.

 _Genius._ _She’s a genius._

“What is it you like to say?” Symmetra smirked, conjuring up another turret in front of her. “‘Come into my parlor’, said the spider to the fly.”

 _A beautiful genius_.

Widowmaker snarled and raised her weapon, aiming to fire as she moved backwards out of range. But she was still in the sights of the third turret; her first shot missed. She took aim again.

A feral roar shook the air, and in an instant the sniper was flying through the air with a powerful swipe. Lena didn’t even see her land. Instead she saw a huge shadow, towering over everything--Winston.

“Lena!” His voice boomed, worried and scared. Lena almost felt bad, until her head jerked over to see Satya, alive and equally worried over her. She couldn’t feel bad about that. But she did feel tremendous amounts of pain and when she tried to speak all that came out was a wail. Her eyes squeezed shut and scrabbled at the ground for an anchor, for anything to keep her from falling apart.

Suddenly Satya grabbed her hand, providing that anchor. Lena’s eyes shot open, resting on the archi-tech. She hoped she could convey enough gratefulness in her expression through her pain, she knew Satya didn’t like physical contact--the fact that she--oh.

 _Oh_.

“Lena, what have you done?” Winston snapped, though not cruelly. She couldn’t tell what he was doing with the accelerator, only that he was doing something.

“What has happened to her? I don’t understand. Is the chronal accelerator malfunctioning?” Satya asked, and although she didn’t make eye contact her eyes never left Lena. Unfortunately her questions went unanswered as Winston focused on assessing the damage, so she kept asking them. Lena only continued to cry out in agony, everything was just too much.

Another voice joined the fray of Winston’s panicked mumblings and Satya’s desperate questions.

"Is everything alright--oh dear. What has happened to Agent Tracer?" It was Zenyatta, and in a sudden flash of gold the torture lessened, minimally. Lena still felt like she was being torn apart, but she thought at least the nosebleed stopped, and the burning in her chest was soothed. She took a deep inhale, no longer feeling excruciating pain when she did so.

"She did something she wasn't supposed to." Winston huffed worriedly.

"Had to." Lena coughed. She looked back to Satya. "Had to."

A wave of blackness suddenly overtook her, and she couldn’t see, couldn't hear, but she wasn't asleep. It passed and she jolted with a panicked shriek.

"--ering in and out like that?" Satya was asking.

"She disrupted the primary wiring keeping her anchored, and then overloaded it. The chronal accelerator is struggling to keep her anchored, but due to its damage it’s only anchoring parts of her at a time. It's tearing her apart across her own timestream." Winston explained, fiddling with a mechanism on the device. No, not a mechanism. The clasps holding the accelerator to her.

"No!" Lena writhed, trying to escape. "No don't!"

"Lena, I have to."

"I can't. I can't do it. Please." She begged. She couldn't go back to being a ghost, to just _floating_ , like a tumbleweed, through time, living and not living at the same time  _she couldn't do it_.

A large warm hand caressed her face. She nuzzled into it, fighting a sob. Fighting the inevitable.

"Lena, I can’t repair the accelerator out here. I have to disconnect it, you'll die if I don't. Lena, it’s okay. I promise I'll find you again." Winston said gently. Lena nodded, sniffling. With a pop the clasps released. But the accelerator had to be pried off of her, it had burned _into_ her, and she screamed. She screamed until her voice gave out, grip white-knuckled on Satya's hand (as if it wasn't already). The archi-tech's other hand clasped over it, warm and soft compared to the prosthetic. Lena clung to that warmth until the pain lessened, until she went limp and gasped for breath.

"My god." She heard the woman hiss in horror.

"My poor child." Zenyatta cooed sympathetically, and the golden glow around her increased. At this point Lena couldn't tell if it was doing any good. Instead she felt herself fade, her grip on the present already loosening. As if to counter it she held on to Satya tighter.

"It will be alright, Lena." It wasn't Winston, it was her, it was Satya, speaking soothingly. She looked scared; she looked determined. "We _will_ bring you back to us."

But then Lena blinked out of time.


	2. Satya

She was gone. She had vanished. Satya’s hands, holding Lena’s, now only grasped empty air.

In the blink of an eye ice made its way through Satya’s veins. Everything felt wrong, like she should be somewhere else, like something else should be happening. Like Lena should be here. Satya acknowledged the bruising pain in her forehead from a barely missed bullet. Like she should be dead.

It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Whatever Tracer had done to herself, she did it to save Satya’s life. Lena had somehow altered Satya’s timestream to prevent her death. Satya still felt the discomfort in her stomach from the rebound of being dragged back and forth across her own timestream and suddenly stopping. By all means, she understood what had happened to her. She even understood _why_ it had happened. Lena Oxton was an idealistic heroine with a bit of a savior complex, and more than that, the woman was fastidiously loyal and would do anything to help those she considered friends (...or...more than friends).

But it was altogether too much to comprehend.

_Lena should be here._

“What happened?” She asked, knowing full well what happened. She read Lena’s file, she knew the basics of her condition and how the chronal accelerator worked.

“She desynchronized. It was the only way to keep her alive.” Winston said solemnly, picking up the remains of the accelerator. It was simply smoking now, and radiated the sickening mix of ozone and burnt flesh. Satya tried to shove the memory of the burn scars of circuitry and _carved_ wounds in Lena’s chest. Her stomach flipped, but it was already empty.

“Let’s go.” He continued. “We need to rendezvous with Mei and Pharah at the point. They’ve been holding it on their own.”

“What about recovering Agent Tracer?”

“Like I said, I can’t repair the accelerator here. Even if she were to reappear, there would be nothing I can do until we get back to base.”

“But will she reappear there?” Satya asked, refusing Zenyatta’s proffered hand with a shake of her head, standing on her own. She shivered at the sudden warmth of a Harmony Orb, but felt the pain in her forehead ease. She nodded her thanks but remained attentive to Winston.

“Perhaps not at first. It’s impossible to control her semi-resynchronization, but Lena has said that she tries to zero in on a specific location if she wants to appear there. We were never able to determine if that actually worked. We can only hope for the best in terms of a speedy reappearance.” Winston set off at a jog, forcing Satya to run to keep up with him; Zenyatta floated alongside them both, listening attentively.

“You cannot triangulate her timestream? To pinpoint when she will reappear?” Satya pushed.

“Do not presume I haven’t tried that path, Symmetra.” Winston huffed, stressed enough without her stream of questions. But it was as if she had lost her filter; she couldn’t help but ask them. “And it unfortunately has been fruitless whenever attempted. _Nor_ can--or should--I attempt it here and now. Focus on the mission, _that_ is the only thing we can do right now.”

“But what of her physical injuries, will she retain them when she reappears--”

“ _Focus on the mission_.” The gorilla growled, and although the act of raising his weapon was borne from the fact they were about to engage hostiles Satya was no less intimidated.

So she did as she was told. She focused on the mission. She compartmentalized all her worry, all her panic, all her pain, and set it aside. _Acknowledge it later_. _Lena will be fine. Acknowledge it later_.

“Your disquiet is not unrecognized, Agent Symmetra.” The omnic monk nearly startled her. He tilted his head in what she could only assume was sympathy. “It is shared. Do not lose faith that we will recover Agent Tracer.”

Symmetra only nodded, lips pressed into a thin line to hold it all in. She primed her blaster and dove head first into shielding her teammates and _focusing on the mission_.

They didn’t return to base until almost a full 48 hours later (lacking Tracer, the team found themselves in need of a pilot). Tracer did not reappear, nor did Symmetra speak a word other than those necessary during battle in that entire timespan. She was well aware of the stares of her teammates, especially on the flight back (once they did find a pilot). But they avoided her on the plane; they shot her furtive glances as she sat in silence and flicked the switch in her prosthetic.

 _Click. Click. Click._ Like the tick of a metronome, always on beat, always in time.

 _Click. Click. Click._ Lena _. Inhale. Exhale. She will be fine. We’ll get her back._

_Click. Click. Click. She did this to herself for you. All for you. Why? You know why. Why?_

_Click. Click. Click. You know why. “I would die before I let you hurt her.” Why? You know why._

_Click. Click. Click. We’ll get her back. We’ll get her back._

“Agent.”

She looked up to see no one, looked down to see Agent Pharah, crouching down before her. Non-threatening. Expression hard to read.

“How are you doing?” She asked.

“Fine.” Satya replied automatically. She knew that Pharah didn’t believe that, but the soldier did not press it.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

_Click. Click. Click. Inhale. Exhale._

“I found a back alley that could potentially be used to flank our position and ambush the point. I was building a turret perimeter as a counter attack. Agent Tracer was coming to my location in order to provide backup as I worked, and then we would retreat back to the point.” Her voice was monotone. “Before she could reach me I spotted the Talon operative Widowmaker. I was beginning to alert the rest of the team to her presence when--”

She paused. What happened?

“When?” Pharah echoed, prompting her.

“When...the sound of a gunshot. It--”

It hit her point blank. But it _didn’t._

“Whatever Le--Agent Tracer did, it allowed her to manipulate my timestream as well as her own. She...I believe she rewound our timestreams to resurrect me, then carried me out of the path of the bullet before it could hit me again. We slammed into a wall. We fell. I...was overwhelmed. My body reacted negatively to the leap through time and I vomited. Agent Tracer was in a state of panic, and in much pain. She was bleeding from her eyes and ears, and blood vessels had broken in her eyes, but she seemed to have dissociated from the pain associated with it. Widowmaker accosted us. L--Agent Tracer was incapacitated by her injuries. I had placed turrets within the room earlier to watch my back as I set up the perimeter; I lured Widowmaker into stepping into their line of fire. I produced a third turret--and that was when Winston arrived. Tracer--she was--”

Pharah seemed to have noticed a change in her otherwise flat tone, or a change in her expression, because she interrupted.

“That's alright. You've told me enough. Thank you, Satya.” She straightened up. “You acted well out in the field.”

“A team member endangered their own life due to my lack of observation--”

“And that was her choice, and her own to make. Do not blame yourself for it.” Pharah said. “We will get her back.”

The conviction in the soldier’s voice did not ease the building anxiety, nor the feeling that everything was too loud, too bright, too big. No, it only continued to build, no matter how much she focused on her fastidious clicking, even when they landed. Mercy was there first, already in rapid discussion with Winston (he must have communicated with her during the flight back). Satya didn't pay attention to what they were saying, and if they glanced at her she chose to ignore it (even though it burned).

But she could not ignore Lúcio, as he skated the walls in the aircraft hangar towards the group. His joviality weighed heavy in Satya’s mind.

“Hey hey hey, you’re finally home!” He cheered, skidding to a stop. The sound of his skates rang loudly in Satya’s ears. The lights in the hangar were too bright.

“It's not like we've been gone for that long.” Mei retorted teasingly, but the strain in her gaze was obvious.

“Yeah, but you were gone _longer_ than you were supposed to be.” Lúcio pointed out with a laugh. He raced past and headed up the ramp into the plane.

“Olly olly Oxton free!” His call echoed out of the plane. Everyone tensed. His following calls were indecipherable, but everyone heard them peter out. All eyes were on him when he reappeared, confused.

“Where’s Lena? Did she blink off to take a leak or some--thing…” His eyes and voice fell on the broken, battered remains of the chronal accelerator in Winston’s hands. In the space of a second all cheerfulness was replaced by worry. Fear. The expressions hit Satya like bullets. Lúcio repeated himself, but this time his voice was serious. “Where’s Lena?”

Mercy and Winston exchanged a glance, but it was Zenyatta who decided to speak.

“There was...an accident, on the field.”

An _accident_?

It was the final straw.

“She desynchronized from the flow of time.” Satya practically snapped. All eyes turned to her and she thought she might scream. She couldn’t meet Lúcio’s eyes.

“Wha--how? Why?” He asked, still confused and just as concerned as before.

“Because of me.” Satya spat. She turned on her heel and stalked off, almost at a full run. She’d create a teleporter if she thought it would get her away faster. She considered it a blessing that no one followed her at all, but the idea that they might made her chest constrict, like a vice around her body. It didn’t release until she had slammed the door to her room shut behind her.

She breathed but it didn’t feel like enough; the room spun. Normally spartan and clean, the colors now appeared garish and bright and confusing. She hit the switch to turn the lights off. Blackness. Silence. Nothing.

_Inhale. Inhale inhale inhale inhaleinhaleinhale._

She fell to her knees. She supposed this was finally acknowledging everything she had set aside earlier. She continued to the floor, the smooth texture the only thing bearable. She tried to strangle her own sobs, her own thoughts.

_“Pathetic.”_

_“Be quiet! Children should be seen and not heard!”_

_“Freak.”_

_“Maintain composure.”_

_“Pathetic.”_

_“Show no weakness.”_

_“Be silent, you’re making a scene.”_

_“Everyone has their place, but everyone is replaceable. Do not fail.”_

_“Traitor! Fool!”_

_“Pathetic.”_

_“We are building a better future for humanity.”_

_“You’re supposed to be a support! You can’t even heal anybody!”_

_“Pathetic.”_

_“S-sorry. Everything got a bit--bit too much for me, yeah?”_

Lena’s voice in her memories was what finally caused her sobs to be audible. All the anxiety, all the worry, all the guilt, it all came pouring out in her tears.

_“Sometimes you just have to let go, ya know?”_

“I’m so sorry, Lena.” She whimpered into the emptiness.

_“You know, mistakes aren’t all too bad. If everything were perfect, well, we’d all be boring, wouldn’t we?” They were sitting on the balcony of the recreation room. Lena had had a few beers, and her words slurred slightly. Satya had had a glass of wine or two. Or three. She never indulged in such libations while with Vishkar, but she had hoped maybe it would help the other Overwatch agents perceive her as more amicable, that she would join them in partying._

_“Wasn’t the Slipstream accident a mistake? A mistake that cost you much.” Satya pointed out. Lena stiffened from her position sprawled on a deck chair, and after a thought Satya realized she might have been too blunt. But the pilot answered before an apology could be issued._

_“Well, sure it was. I know what yer tryin’ to get at--and yeah, it’s a mistake I wish hadn’t happened to me. But it wasn’t really somethin’ I could control though, now was it? But that’s the thing. You can’t control it all. You can’t control everything that happens to you, and that's comin’ from someone who can control her own_ time _. You’ll just drive yourself insane that way, believe you me. That’s why you have to let some mistakes go. Some--sometimes you just have to let it all--all just...blink away.” Her voice dropped to a morose tone, and she slumped in her chair._

_“That seems...counterproductive.”_

_“On the contrary love.” Lena eyed her out of the corner of her eyes. “Sometimes it’s the only way you can keep going.”_

“You couldn’t let me blink away. Why?”

_You know why._

“I couldn’t let her hurt you. Why?”

 _You know why_.

Satya buried her face in her hands, curled up on the ground. She knew she was being irrational, that Lena was not dead, that she was not at fault for Lena’s actions, but at the worst of times rationality escaped her. She wanted Lena back, she wanted her back _now_. _Why_?

“I love her. I love her.”

It was as if the darkness of the room swallowed her up, swallowed her whole. It had blinded all of her senses...or dimmed them...or dulled her ability to process them. She dissociated from them, that would be the most... _clinical_ term. When all was said and done, the world vanished from Satya’s awareness, although the reverse was not true. Satya didn't realize this until everything slowly faded back in, as if on a dimmer switch. The cool night air; the cushion of the stool she was sitting on; the weight in her belly that told her she had eaten; the sound of a guitar, quite close to her. She blinked, and sniffed, grimacing as the first scent that reached her was the acrid tang of a cigar. The guitar stopped.

“The Lady returns.” Agent McCree drawled. They were out on the balcony of the recreation room, McCree lounging in the deck chair (it reminded her of the time--), guitar in hand. The sky shone dark azure in the light of a full moon, drowning out most of the stars with its light. Jesse was no longer smoking, but the ashtray by his feet was, slightly.

Satya shifted in her seat, readjusting her hands in her lap. While the memories leading up to her escaping to her room were clear, those after were obscured by what felt like dense fog. She sighed.

“I apologize for any concern I may have caused in my dissociative state.”

“No need to. Everyone kinda picked up on it. I told ‘em all to leave ya be, you’d come back to us eventually.” Jesse explained. “Hana was a little freaked out, though--promised her I’d stick with ya just to make sure you’d be okay. Hope ya don't mind.”

“I do not, although it was not necessary...Thank you.” Satya nodded gratefully (although she was sure it wasn't properly expressed; facial expressions seemed difficult to her right now). Jesse seemed to hear it in her voice thankfully; he nodded in return.

“My pleasure. I've been--seen this before--not you, mind,” he fumbled a little, awkwardly, “--but, in--in others. Sometimes it can be alarmin’ to come out of it alone.”

“...Yes, yes it can.” Satya acquiesced. “I have not experienced such a complete dissociation since Vishkar t--”

_Took me._

_Trained it out of me._

_Turned on me._

She didn't finish that sentence. Jesse eyed her for a moment, and she sensed the sympathy in his gaze, though she didn't understand why it was there. In the end Jesse only shrugged.

“There's nothin’ wrong with it, in my eyes. Sometimes it's the only way to handle the stress.” He said. He started picking at the strings of his guitar again.

“Now are you gonna be oka--”

“Have you ever seen it?”

The guitar let out an angry _twang_ of a sour note as Jesse pulled a string too hard. “Pardon?”

“Have you ever seen it?” Satya repeated, staring down at her hands. It wasn't overwhelming anymore, but the feeling of clutching Lena’s hand in her own only to feel it vanish still lingered. “Have you ever seen her…”

“Desynchronize?” Jesse finished, mouth drawn into a grim line. After a pause, he nodded. “Yes’m, once.”

He didn’t need prompting to tell the story.

“There weren’t a lot of co-op missions between Blackwatch and Overwatch back in the day. But--well, there was one in particular. We were all playin’ the long game tryin’ to infiltrate and take down a trafficking ring in uh--heh--Canada, of all places. Ah, but it ran all the way from LA to Ontario to overseas--a huge target for us. Blackwatch was working on it from the inside out, Overwatch from the outside in.”

“I think I am familiar with the case. One of the biggest mission successes in Overwatch history.” Satya nodded.

“Yeah, well, just because it was a success don’t mean it didn’t have complications.” Jesse huffed. He took out another cigar, but after glancing at Satya distasteful look he seemed to decide against lighting it. He rolled it between his fingers.

“Since you know the case, I’ll spare ya most of the borin’ details. Eventually the whole op came to a head, a full out battle in a warehouse in Toronto. Half of us were in the thick of it, tryin’ to take down as many of the traffickers as possible, the rest were trying to get the victims and hostages out of there. Lena was dabblin’ in both--she was one of the fastest out of all of us, she could get folks in and out, _and_ she could harry the bastards like no other. But things were getting hairy--I mean, _Reinhardt_ was down, and so was I, with two bullets to the leg n’ all--and, well, Gabe, he--”

“Commander Reyes?”

“--yeah, yeah,” Jesse shifted, “Reyes. He called for a clear out.”

“You retreated?”

“Not necessarily. Gabe--there was a move he could pull out on the field. Something he learned during the Omnic Crisis, something he’d only used in an emergency. Someone as a joke called it his ‘Death Blossom’--” Jesse couldn’t resist a chuckle at the ridiculous name, and even Satya smirked, “--and, and I think he ended up keepin’ it. It…”

He trailed off, sobering.

“Well, what it was, he’d--he’d throw himself into the thick of it and essentially let loose with his shotguns. God, that man would rain hellfire on anyone in range. But he knew what a dangerous move it was. Had some of the best aim of anyone I ever knew, but when yer firing wildly like that, you don’t want friendlies to get caught in the crossfire. So he’d call for us to get to cover, as he was ‘clearing the area’, so to speak.”

“A dangerous tactic.”

“Sure, but it’d saved lives--mine included.”

“And yet I’m not finding it hard to figure out what happened--for all its purported usefulness, Lena got caught in the crossfire.”

Jesse threw up his hands helplessly.

“It was really just a streak of bad luck, when all was said and done. It’s not like that chronal thingy is that fragile--it’s meant to stand up to some kind of gunfire. What happened was that Lena got ambushed in her cover position--a straggler that hadn’t been drawn in by Gabe. In the heat of battle she forgot to look where she was goin’, I guess. L’il lady vamoosed out of there--and right into Gabriel. One shotgun blast point blank to the thing was enough to take it out. It...it was like watching a computer screen glitch out. She...she just _blipped_ out of existence.” Jesse stared off, obviously caught in the memory.

“There really wasn’t anything else to do but keep fightin’, so that’s what we did. But god was Gabe one hell of a mess at the other end of it. He was tearing himself up somethin’ fierce for the accident. And Jack was furious--he was Lena’s C-O, he’s the one who brought her in. And he didn’t like the ol’ Death Blossom to boot. Hell, they almost got physical over it.”

“What about Lena?”

“It took her six months to reappear--or at least, reappear on base. Thankfully Winston had repaired the accelerator. All he had to do was plop it on her and she was back, good as new. Didn’t even have any bad wounds from the shotgun--just some bruisin’. And she put an end to Gabe and Jack’s fighting right quick. For all she was Jack’s subordinate, she had no qualms about lashin’ into him, bless her soul.”

“Six months…” Satya murmured, smoothing down her dress--her battle gear, she had never changed out of it.

“Don’t be disheartened, sweetheart. She could be back within the week. And she’s a tough woman--when she’s back, she’ll be back stronger than ever.” Jesse said. With a strained huff, he rose to his feet. And when he smiled at her, there was a mischievous lilt to it. “And I’m sure she’ll hop right on ya to make sure yer not blamin’ yerself, just like with Gabe.”

“Nonsense, I do not blame myself for Lena’s actions.” Satya waved him off. The man snorted.

“Riiight. And you _don’t_ blame yerself for being the _cause_ of those actions.” Jesse said sarcastically. Satya stiffened. “I know how literal you can be, Missy. An’ so does Lena, who’ll by no means let that slide.”

Satya’s next words were under her breath, hardly audible at all, but Jesse somehow heard them--or perhaps he had predicted them.

“She won’t. She won’t because that big heart a hers won’t let her do anything else. Especially when it comes to you.”

Satya’s gaze dropped to the floor, a faint smile graced her lips. Such a foolish notion, for Lena to fuss over Satya’s self-blaming. Lena was simply foolish sometimes.

_And yet, so am I._

“I know.”

Jesse hummed, still smiling.

“Well, I’m gonna hit the hay. You should too, we’ve got the official debrief in the morning, although I don’t think Winston will fault ya for not attendin’.”

“Very well. Goodnight, Ag--Jesse.” She fumbled for a moment, almost forgetting how the cowboy insisted she use his first name. Jesse returned the farewell and tipped his hat, before leaving her standing alone on the balcony. He whistled a tune as he left, a pleasant, gentle riff. It reminded Satya of a songbird. She tried to keep the tune in her head when she spared one last look at the moon, before going inside as well.

Thank goodness she was no longer compartmentalizing. She was, however, moving action by action. Walk back to the residential wings. Take a shower. Brush hair and teeth. Go back to her room. Lay in bed. Go to sleep. The last one was the hardest, but she managed.

She even attended the debriefing in the morning. She listened to Winston explain the relative success of the mission, what happened to Lena, and the protocol should one find her on base.

“Immediately contact me. If possible, bring Lena to my lab, where we should be able to reimplement the chronal accelerator, once I’ve repaired it. Please note: if she reappears within the week, there’s no promises that the accelerator will be repaired in time. If that’s the case, there is nothing we can do. The hope is that she won’t disappear again, but the likelihood is that she will. The best thing to do in that case is keep her company while she’s present.”

“She’ll be able to see and hear us, right?” Hana asked. Winston nodded.

“Yes, but she won’t be able to touch or feel anything.”

_A living ghost. That’s how it was described in her profile._

Satya could only imagine how torturous that was. It was torturous just waiting for Lena to reappear at all. And not just for her either. The only thing anyone could do was go on with their daily lives, but almost everyone was on edge. All of them had an eye out for the missing pilot. There were actually a couple of false alarms. On one occasion, Lúcio had mistaken someone for Lena when he saw them approaching from far across the cliffs of Gibraltar (it, in fact, was Genji, but the orange outfit the ninja had been wearing confused the musician); on another, Jesse, half asleep, had mistaken a holovid of Lena for the real thing (and that, in fact, was _Hanzo_ ’s fault, for leaving it open while he had gone to relieve himself). Both had involved dealing with a very frustrated, sleep-deprived Winston. Satya had had her own scare, something moving out of the corner of her eye as she ran on a treadmill, but she knew better than to call in the gorilla immediately, so she was spared an angry visit.

No, Lena took two weeks to reappear.

After the fourth false alarm (thanks to Hana), everyone simply kept their communicator on hand (or, to be more apt, in ear). So everyone on base heard Zarya’s shout:

“Winston, I’ve spotted Lena in the aircraft hangar!”

“Are you sure it’s her?”

“Do you know any other small brunette with ear piercings who would lovingly stroke the jet she primarily flies?” Came the sarcastic retort.

“You know the protocol, bring her to the lab.”

“On it.”

Satya was on her feet at the first shout, running for the hangar at full speed. But not fast enough. Lena and Zarya were only halfway across the hangar when Satya had made the observation deck, a large hallway with one wall of large floor to ceiling windows giving her a view of the entire thing. Her eyes fell on Lena, watching her as she ran.

Watching her as she began to flicker.

“No.” She whispered. She called into the comm.

“I can see them in the hangar, but Lena’s already flickering out.”

“I’m on my way!”

But not fast enough. Lena didn’t seem to run like Zarya did, as Satya watched them. She seemed to be constrained by the laws of gravity but when her feet hit the ground they phased through it, though this didn’t hinder her movement. Nonetheless, she started to fall behind. She flickered out mid-step, and when she flickered back, she was hunched over, heaving for breath. She coughed violently. Zarya cursed in her native tongue, turning tail to run back to her.

“Is that _blood_?” She asked urgently, worriedly. Lena didn’t straighten, but she looked up, and Satya could see the pain in her eyes and the blood trailing down her chin. Satya was practically flush against the glass window, knowing that she’d never make it down there in time and so helpless to only watch. Suddenly Lena looked up--way up, to _Satya_ up. Their eyes locked and Satya didn’t look away.

“Don’t. Please.” She whispered. She knew Lena couldn’t hear her.

“I’m sorry.” Satya could read her lips, even this far away.

And then she was gone.

 _Again_.

The consensus after that was that Mercy should also meet in the lab when Lena reappeared and was brought there, to assess the woman’s wounds, since they seemed persistent even across her disassociation.

There was only one other reappearance after that, in the span of an entire month. Mei claimed she saw the pilot limping along one of the dorm hallways, hand trailing along the wall. She had vanished before Mei could say anything, however.

And so the month continued. Satya found herself seeking the company of Jesse, more often than not. The cowboy was as on edge as everyone else, but it couldn't be read as easily in his eyes, or in the way he moved. And, Satya had to admit, he had a talent with that guitar of his. He seemed to be playing it more, perhaps to relieve some of the anxiety swirling around the base like a storm.

“Well, sometimes the desert was a little _too_ quiet.” He shrugged in noncommittal explanation when she asked. He offered to teach her, but she politely refused. She had never been one for playing music. She had always been a dancer.

She wondered if Lena could dance. She had never seen her do so in the past.

Another month passed. No sightings of Lena whatsoever. Winston and Mercy were grounded from any missions: in the case that she returned they needed to be there. Satya never officially requested that she be grounded as well, but she noted that she was never assigned any missions. She didn’t mention it.

Another month. Another four, almost five weeks of quiet; of the glaring, gaping hole in conversations where there’d normally be an impish grin or peppy remark; of the empty chair at dinner that everyone furtively glanced at when they thought no one was looking at them; of Satya turning every corner with bated breath; of Satya quietly resigning herself to waiting, waiting on shore like the wife of a sailor, praying for their safe return.

“Satya?”

She was in the kitchen, a fresh mug of tea in her hands, when the voice hit her like a bolt of lightning. She whirled, mug slipping out of her hands to shatter on the ground.

Lena winced. She looked haggard, her face was gaunt, and there were bags under her eyes. One hand patted her thigh, the other wrapped across her waist, as if staving off pain. And yet she still offered Satya a smile.

“Lena!” Satya ran to her, hands reaching out. But she had forgotten: when her hands cupped Lena’s face they didn’t, they phased through her. Lena winced again, biting her lip. There were tears in her eyes.

“Sorry love. I’m a bit incorporeal right now.”

Satya didn’t waste any time.

“Winston!” She snapped into her comm. “Lena’s reappeared in the kitchen!”

“Are you sure?” Winston asked.

“Positive.”

“You know the protocol.”

Satya nodded even though she couldn’t be seen by anyone other than Lena.

“Let’s go.” She urged, already turning to leave.

“I can’t.”

She froze; she turned back. Lena hadn’t moved. The tempo of her patting had increased.

“I’m...I’m not strong enough.” She said quietly. “I think if I move I’ll just disappear.”

“No.” Satya gritted, coming back to Lena. “I’m not letting that happen again.”

Her mind raced, picking through solution after solution. The lab was three floors up on the opposite side of the base.

“Winston, are you in the lab?” She called.

“Yes, awaiting your arrival.”

“That is not going to work.” Satya said. She eyed the kitchen, looking for an open enough space. It was large, with all the appliances and cabinets along one wall and a bar extending out of it, but the open space that would be in the center was occupied by an island. On the other side of that was the large table they all sat at to eat meals. Satya rushed to it, shoving the table as far back as she could (which wasn’t far, the table was large and heavy) and pushing chairs out of the way. She hoped it would suffice.

It wasn’t difficult to coordinate the teleporter; a mission months ago had hit home base and Satya had built a teleporter that linked back to Winston’s lab. She activated the construct in her palm, and the hard light gathered. The teleporter was up in seconds.

“I have opened the path.” She announced. Lena cleared her throat weakly.

“Satya, I don’t think going through something like that when I’m like this is a good idea.” She pointed out. She coughed, and flickered. Satya’s heart skipped a beat.

“Then you will not be the one passing through it.” She said simply. Then, into the comm: “Winston, bring the accelerator with you. Lena is not strong enough to be moved.”

“But--ah--copy that.”

Satya backed up to be by Lena’s side, wishing more than ever they could touch.

“I’ve missed you.” Lena murmured, eyes fixed on the teleporter. She flickered out and in again.

“And I you.” Satya returned, voice thick.

Winston barrelled through, promptly tripping over a chair with a curse. Mercy followed after him, and promptly tripped over him as well. Satya would not normally be amused by such a sight, but Lena’s faint giggle from beside her made her smile. She internally told herself not to worry, that Lena would be re-anchored in moments, but another glance at the bags under Lena’s eyes hindered that attempt.

“Lena!” Winston cried, adjusting his glasses. He lumbered over to them, the repaired accelerator in his hand. It gleamed, good as new (or perhaps it _was_ new, Satya had no idea if he had simply scrapped the old one and built a new one or not). Lena grinned, with fresh hope in her eyes.

“Hiya big guy.” She stepped away from Satya towards the ape, arms outstretched for the device. Yet, as Winston began to slip the accelerator onto her, Mercy cried out.

“No, don’t!”

Satya felt a wave of defensiveness rise within her. Lena could disappear at any second, why was she preventing this?

“Loosen it, Winston. It’ll aggravate her injuries if you don’t.”

Oh.

Winston did as told, then went straight back to setting it over Lena’s shoulders. He didn’t let go once it was placed, as otherwise it would simply phase through Lena like everything else.

“Deep breath.” He warned, and Lena nodded, used to this experience. Winston activated the chronal accelerator and let go. It whirred to life with a pulse of blue light. The pulse stretched outward, wrapping around Lena’s body, rippling over her like the sun through water. The pilot gasped, and she seemed to levitate for a moment before she landed solidly on the ground. Satya heard the soft _thump_ of it. Lena swayed where she stood, staring at her hands, which she experimentally clenched. The chronal accelerator hung loosely on her shoulders.

“Lena, is it working?” Winston asked.

“How are you feeling?” Mercy pressed.

Lena looked between the two of them dazedly.

“I feel h-here. Solid. P-present.” She laughed a little at that last one, but with a plaintive “ow” her knees gave out. Satya moved without thinking, catching the woman in her arms. She didn’t like how light Lena felt, but that was overwhelmed by the relief of simply being able to feel Lena at all. She scooped her legs up so she was carrying her wholly and without thinking pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Satya only had to nod to the others to understand what to do: the med bay was close by the lab. They passed through the teleporter one by one, Mercy leading, Satya and Lena next, and Winston bringing up the rear.

Lena curled into Satya’s hold.

“I missed you.” She whispered.

“You already told me that.” Satya said.

“I know. But that was before you swept me off my feet and kissed me.” Lena shifted so she could look at Satya; her eyes were half-lidded, exhausted, but she looked happier than Satya had seen her since before she disappeared.

If anyone pointed out the way Satya’s cheeks darkened she would vehemently deny it, although she wouldn’t understand quite why. But she returned Lena’s grin with a small smile of her own.

“I missed you too.”

“You already told _me_ that.” Lena teased.

“I know. But that is why I swept you off your feet and kissed you.”

Lena giggled, quietly, and didn’t stop smiling even as Satya set her down on the med bay bed. She reached out for Satya’s hand and she took it without hesitation. This time Lena’s hand didn’t vanish from her own.

Good. She wasn’t about to let Lena blink away again any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn I love this ship.

**Author's Note:**

> I shipping this ship and y'all can't stop me


End file.
